The Coming of the Winds
by Rainey Lennyn
Summary: This story happens years later and deals with the children of the fellowship, real characters created by Tolkien-Sam's daughter and Pippin's son. More chapters to come. Please read and review!
1. Default Chapter

It was a blustery day in the Shire. The North wind blew in fierce over the hilltops, whistling through houses and shaking the trees. All across the countryside, people were huddled into their burrows, keeping close to the fire, trying to keep the chill far away. Even the unlucky ponies whose owners didn't have sheds to put them in were kneeling under trees, shivering in the cold. In the pub, old hobbits whispered that when the wind blew like this, it was the last breath of Saruman, reminding them of how close he had come to destroying them. In a particularly famous burrow of the Shire, known still as Bag End, a Hobbit family of large size was avoiding the wind just like the rest of town. A fire burned brightly in the large fireplace, illuminating the very fine burrow. In a large red chair placed properly before the fire sat a plump, fair-haired Hobbit man, well-advanced in his years. He smoked a long pipe as he told grandiose stories about days of old, younger Hobbitlings gathered around his feet. They listened with wide blue eyes, attentive and gasping at all the right parts, though they had heard the stories many times over. If they truly wanted, they could recite them themselves without missing a beat. Part of the fun was having their old gaffer do it though. 

Farther away from the sitting room, a trio of female Hobbits bustled around the kitchen, doing womanly things like dishes and cooking. One particular girl; however, always had one ear twisted to the sound of her father's voice. As she vaguely washed dishes, her cheeks would flush at an exciting part or pale at a dire moment. So wrapped up in her avid listening, she didn't notice when she began to wash a loaf of bread. Her sister screeched,

"Mother! Goldilocks is doing it again!"

Old Rosie Cotton Gamgee planted her hands on her ample hips and scolded,

"Young lady, what do you think you're doing there?"

Her face crimson with embarrassment, the pretty little Hobbit named Goldilocks Gamgee, the sixth of thirteen Gamgees, held up the now soaking mass of bread. She muttered under her breath,

"I thought it was a little dry."

Her sister practically shouted in the same obnoxious voice,

"Mother, did you hear that?! She's calling the bread _I_ made dry!"

"Well it is!" Goldilocks exclaimed, marching over to stand nose to nose with her older sister. "I thought washing it might cure it!"

"At least mine doesn't taste like dirt," young Rose shouted back. Goldilocks pursed her pink mouth and hissed in a low enough voice that their mother couldn't hear.

"I'll make you eat dirt if you don't quit screeching in my ear, you old barn owl!"

This set her off wailing again, their mother trying to scold both of them at the same time and Goldilocks plugging her ears and singing loudly to herself.

"For crying out loud, what's all this infernal racket?"

In the doorway stood a bewildered Samwise Gamgee, leaning on a walking stick and looking perplexed over the fighting of his womenfolk. His wife threw up her towel and gave him a look that spoke volumes. He nodded and slipped an arm around Goldilocks. Squeezing her shoulder a bit, he nudged her toward the hallway.

"Come along, Goldi, let's have us a chat, shall we? We'll let your mother and Rose finish up the kitchen tasks." 

As soon as they stepped out of line of sight and hearing range, Goldilocks balled her fists and exclaimed,

"Oh, I could just strangle her! Silly little twit anyway."

"Now, now," Sam coughed. "Don't be so harsh on your sister there. She just likes to do her womanly things and she takes offense when you criticize her. Exactly why were you washing the bread, dearie?"

She rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall with a slight smile.

"I didn't mean to. I was listening to you tell the young ones the old stories again. I just got a little distracted."

Sam smiled gently at the middle of his great brood of children. He could never admit it anyone, especially his wife, but Goldilocks would always be his favorite. From the wintry day she was born on where she screamed her way into the world, she had been bold, impetuous and always daring. She was constantly giving her mother gray hairs for she ran wild with the boy Hobbits of the town, getting dirty and playing rough. Even now that she was older, a teenager by hobbit standards and the prettiest lass in the Shire, she still hadn't calmed down. There was always a far off look in her eyes that sometimes frightened him. She would never be content with the Shire, his Goldilocks and he worried where that might take her.

Her eyes sought the gray-colored clouds on the horizon and wished she could fly away with the wind, wished someone would come take her away from the drab, provincial life she lived. She asked quietly,

"Poppa, why aren't there any brave Hobbit women in your story?"

"Now why do you ask that, poppet?" Sam chuckled. "Aren't the stories of Queen Arwen and Lady Eowyn enough for you?"

"It's not that," she sighed, turning to face him. "I love those stories. I just wish there was a brave Hobbit girl in one once in a while. Why if you and the uncles could have great adventures, why can't I?"

"A great adventure?!" Sam felt some of the color drain from his face. "Goldi, you don't what you're asking for. You should appreciate the fine, peaceful times we're living in. Adventures are not to be taken lightly. Don't you listen to my stories at all?"

"Of course I do, Poppa-that's why I want an adventure. I'd rather live through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered than be resigned to a life of dishes!"

Sam felt his heart swell fort his passionate little thing that had grown up on tales of valor and extraordinary circumstances. She just wanted a little excitement; she wasn't like her mother and her sisters. He asked,

"But now what about Elanor? She lives over in Westmarch now-that's a whole new exciting country, thanks to Strider-er, King Elessar, that is. Maybe I could send you to her for a while; you could help her and Fastred with the books."

The look of disgust was plain enough. She gagged, curling her lip,

"Boring! Poppa, being cooped up with Ellie and her library and her stuffy husband isn't adventure. I suppose I'll never do anything grander than throw Rose's bread in the sink. I'm going to find Faramir."

"In this weather? Goldi, I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Your motherly fret and I-" 

Quickly to avoid any more of his protests, Goldilocks pecked a kiss at his cheek, grabbed her cloak and dashed out the door, calling behind her,

"I'll be home before dusk! Don't worry!"

Watching her run away from the burrow at top speed, Sam couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension. Faramir was the daughter of his good friend Pippin, and while he was a good lad with an upcoming apprenticeship at Gondor, he was built of the same adventuresome fiber his father was. He worried endlessly that his daughter would only get into trouble with that hobbit.


	2. Chapter 2

Faramir Took sat atop the eaves of his father's fine horse barn, perched like an owl, reading a map that was spread across his knees. Hearing scrabbling below him, he leaned over until he was almost upside down. Climbing up a notched beam with her skirts hitched up to her knees, Goldilocks made her way up without the least sign of struggle. Seeing his grinning face, she got a free hand and pushed his head.

"Move over, you big bullock. Do you want me to fall to my death?" 

Laughing, Faramir scooted over enough for Goldilocks to a comfortable spot on the wide eave. He said teasingly,

"You know, Golds, I don't think it's very ladylike for a Hobbit lass to be climbing up barns." 

"Ugh, I'm sick to death of hearing how unladylike I am! I do believe I'll combust if I hear it one more time!"

"Rose and your mum giving you trouble?" he asked sympathetically, folding the map and putting it away. Goldilocks snatched it from his pack before he could snap it up and squinted at it carefully. She said absently,

"Oh, Rosie and Mother aren't being any worse than normal. So what is this, Far?"

"Oh, it's a map of an unknown region that once existed deep inside Mirkwood. They say it was a place of great magic where all three races lived in harmony and great wealth. They say that when the alliance broke hundreds of years ago, that the elves hid it and kept it to themselves. But no one really knows if it still exists, you see. This is a map I found deep inside of a leaflet in my gaffer's library."

Goldilocks' eyes brightened to a cerulean blue that Faramir pretended not to be affected by. He knew she didn't see him that way and probably never would. She grabbed at his hand excitedly and it sent a thrill through him.

"Faramir, let's go! I know it sounds crazy but let's go!"

"Golds, you've lost your mind. This wind must be making you go loony. We can't go anywhere, much less some place that doesn't even exist!"

"Ah, but you just said that it used to exist! Why hasn't anyone ever tried to find it before? It sounds like a marvelous idea!"

Faramir shook his head and snapped playfully,

"Because no one's been as addled as you are. Come on, Golds, you're being ridiculous. You know your gaffer will never let you go anywhere-old Sam's the most protective parent in the Shire."

"Don't I know it," she grumbled, chewing absently on a piece of straw. "But at least he doesn't expect me to be all wifely like Mother does. My whole options in life are to marry or cook at the pub. What glorious prospects!" 

At this exclamation she flung her arms out wide, her face twisted dramatically and nearly losing her balance. Faramir yelped and snatched her shoulder, righting her on the eave again. She rubbed her with a furrowed brow and gave him a look.

"Ow, you big bully, what was that for?"

"Goldi, you were about to fall off!" he said, gaping at the fact she hadn't noticed. She scoffed and proceeded to stand and walk daringly, one tiptoe after another. She chattered along as Faramir watched with wide eyes.

"Please, have a little faith. Why, I'm Samwise Gamgee's daughter, one of the fellowship that saved the entire world. I've got blueblood in me and I can certainly handle this. Why, I'm not even shaking a bit, knowing that at any moment I could fall to the earth into the gaping jaws of the dragon!"

With a horrified gasp, she pointed down at one of Faramir's orneriest stallions. Both burst into loud, raucous laughter that was quickly stunted by another voice.

"Faramir Took and Goldilocks Gamgee, get your foolish selves off my barn!"

Below them, trying to look as stern as possible, stood Thain Peregrin Took, better known Pippin-Faramir's father. He smothered a laugh behind his hand as the two scrambled quickly down. He relied to their downcast faces,

"Well, just be glad. Diamond didn't come out looking for you two. Faramir, you'll be the death of your mother someday. And you, Miss Goldilocks, does your gaffer know you're gallivanting at the top of my barn in such weather as this?"

"A bit," she shrugged. "He knows I'm with Far and that very likely means trouble. He's used to that by now, Thain Took."

"Now, now, none of that," he scoffed disdainfully. "You'll call me Uncle Pip, just as you did when you were wee. But tell me how goes my old friend-the mayor?"

"Oh, he's in rare form," she smiled, thinking fondly of her father snuggled in their burrow with the rest of the family. "As long as he's got listening ears and a fresh pipe, he's happy."

Pippin nodded happily to himself, wishing he had more time to visit his old friends. He saw Merry even less than he did Sam and the thought just saddened him even more since Frodo had crossed over years ago. Goldilocks watched Faramir slip a comforting hand through his father's arm as if having read his thoughts. Since the fateful day Pippin had drunk an ent draft, he had grown to a spectacular height for a Hobbit and somehow the trait had been passed down to his only son. Faramir could almost pass as a human, so tall and good-looking he was. She herself was like her sisters Elanor the Fair and Daisy; they were uniquely blond haired- a trait rarely found in the Shire and their beauty was well-renowned for they looked more like elf-maidens than Hobbits. Goldilocks tried especially hard to ignore the townspeople's whispers and compliments for adventurers and warriors weren't beheld for their looks. And she so desperately wanted to be that.

"Well, come along, young ones, come inside and have a spot of tea and middle breakfast," Pippin encouraged, gesturing to the grand burrow he and his wife Diamond of Long Cleeve lived in. Their thoughts diverted by the mention of food like any self-respecting Hobbit, they followed happily.

"You know, Father, I never understood why people say a spot of tea," Faramir mused. "I mean, you always have a cupful, not a spot. Who would want to have a spot anyway-that can't fill a body up?"

"You know, son, I've often wondered the same thing," the Thain agreed, leaving Goldilocks trying to disguise her giggles. Walking into the large home of the Tooks, she was filled with the same warmth she got when she entered her own house. It was always cozy and smelled of cooking food; although Faramir's burrow lacked the seven younger siblings that occupied hers. Books lined the shelves and framed maps hung on the walls. Also akin to her home, there was a special section devoted to mementos from Pippin's travels as a young Hobbit. On display were the leaves of Lothlorien, the daggers given to him by the elves and various other artifacts that deserved to be in a museum. 

"So," Pippin sighed, sinking into a chair, holding a steaming cup of tea between both hands. "How's all the other midgets in your father's brood? Frodo doing all right?"

"I suppose," she shrugged. "Frodo's always stuck more to himself; he really just travels around aimlessly, I think."

"No, I don't think that's the case. I'd say he's just got a bit of his namesake's spirit in him. Good old Baggins-how I miss the dear old Hobbit on days like this. Makes a gaffer like me feel at least a hundred."

"My poppa's the same way when the wind blows like this," Goldilocks shivered, staring out one of the picture windows at the gray weather. "I wish I could have met Uncle Frodo; he sounds like an extraordinary Hobbit."

"That he was that he was. The best among us, I'd say-though Strider, ahem, King Elessar's done all right for himself," he chuckled at his own personal joke. "I say, Golds, you must know the king fairly well, given how often he visits old Sam."

Goldilocks thought tenderly of the wise, graying king she had known her whole life. He was every bit the regal, just ruler known as Elessar; but to her, he was a lovely man who had pretended to be her pony when she was young. She nodded,

"Yes but not any better than I know Uncle Merry or you, Uncle Pip. Besides I enjoy Faramir's company much better than Eldarion's"

At this Faramir both brightened and bristled when she mentioned the prince, son of King Elessar and Queen Arwen Undomiel. He jumped to his feet quickly and pointed out the window at the brewing storm.

"Well, Golds, I better walk you home. This storm doesn't look like its getting friendlier. I'll be home shortly, Father."

"Since when did I need your assistance getting to Bag End?" she screwed up her face, surveying him suspiciously. "I believe I can manage."

"No, no, Faramir's right," Pippin agreed, flashing his son a wink behind the Gamgee lass' back. "It's only proper and gentlemanly to walk a lady home."

Shrugging hopelessly into her cloak, she wondered briefly what the secret the two Tooks were grinning about was. Walking outside, their clothes whipping in the wind, Goldilocks asked from beneath her large hood,

"Now what was all that about, Faramir Took? What are you and your father grinning like a bunch of jesters for?"

"Aw, Golds, you wouldn't understand. It was male Hobbit matters."

Goldilocks' retort started, her lips curling when suddenly a strong gust of wind tore down the countryside, snatching the two young Hobbits off their feet. 

They never hit the ground.


End file.
